Prince Lionheart
by WillowBlueJay17
Summary: When did bravery become recklessness? When did the determination to protect become stubbornness? When did maintaining a strong front for the sake of others become avoiding his problems? Dimitri-centric. Pre-Release. COMPLETED!


And here we are folks! The final part in my little pre-release mini series! It started with "Since Sticks Were Swords" with Felix, then came "Trust Falls" with Ingrid, and then it was "Rumor Has It" with Sylvain and now it ends with "Prince Lionheart" with Dimitri. Oh gosh, I spent so many weeks writing pre-release fics. "Rebuild From Zero" getting me back into writing. And then I did this four part mini series. I've never written pre-release fics before, and certainly never expected to write so many of them! But I had tons of fun trying to analyze and figure out how these characters would work. This was supposed to be out a few days ago, but I kept getting distracted, my original idea for this fic wouldn't work properly so I had to scrap that idea and start over, and then a storm temporarily took out the power in my area, not to mention that nasty little heatwave. But here it finally is!

Three Houses is finally releasing at the end of the week! It's almost time! Can't wait to figure how wrong/on the mark my fics were...But yeah, we're almost at the finish line, everyone! Enjoy the fic!

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over the Fire Emblem series or its characters.

* * *

Courage. Chivalry. Intelligence. Nobility. Strength. Determination.

The qualities of a good ruler. None being the most important, no order to put them in. A ruler who wished to be their best, to do right by their people, must possess such qualities. Don't dishonor the kings and queens of old who gave their all for their land. Live for the people. Guard them from all threats, within and outside of the kingdom. Lead, encourage, inspire.

Rulers don't, _can't_, have the luxury to show their weaknesses. If the people don't see a strong, reliable figure on the throne, they won't have faith in the royal family. Such lack of faith can bring the downfall of nations, and has done so before. Stay strong, retain composure, and if the heart is faltering, is suffering, don't let it show. It is all for the people, for the good of the kingdom.

Even if the body breaks down from the battles that are fought. Even if the mind shatters from the difficult decisions that must be made. Even if the soul corrupts, can no longer stand the weight of all it has done, that it must continue to do. The ruler's duty is to serve the people. The kingdom before the king, the lives of the many citizens before the life of a single ruler. Protect the people, protect the weak who can't save themselves.

Protect. Protect. _Protect_.

"Just as the King of Lions did, right, Father?"

"Yes, just as he did. Just as our ancestors have done. As my father raised me to do. And as you must do when the throne is yours, Dimitri."

Yes, that was what he must do, the person he had to become. Dimitri had known that, been told that, for as long as he could remember, from before he could even understand the true meaning behind the words. He knew very well what it meant to be a "true crown prince of Faerghus".

But for so long he hadn't cared, at least he hadn't given it much thought. He was quite a terror in his early years. Running off without telling anyone, exploring forests on his own, dragging Felix along on misadventure after chaotic misadventure once the two had become friends. No sense of decorum, stuck in his ways, unyielding to any decisions or thoughts that weren't what he wanted.

…He had been quite the selfish child…

Reality struck him soon enough. With the knowledge of how little the people of Faerghus thought of him, how they considered him an unreliable joke who would bring ruin to the kingdom. When the day came that Felix got badly hurt because of that very personality of his that the people hated, that Dimitri himself had always thought was just fine.

It struck him at once, the kind of person he was and the kind of person he needed to be.

Change. He had to change. If he kept on as he was, it terrified him what would lay ahead. That thought echoed in the back of his head constantly, as Felix stayed by his side, as Ingrid and Sylvain came into his life, as he met Dedue, Ashe, Mercedes, and Annette. As he looked at the state of his kingdom, at what lay ahead, at what the past held that drove him forward.

Become the prince Faerghus needed. The future king the people were counting on. A strong pillar of the kingdom. The embodiment of chivalry and courage. Don't falter, don't stumble, don't be weak. Don't let personal problems affect the kingdom. Become the ideal prince, the ideal future king, that the citizens desire, that they need.

Protect. Protect. _Protect_.

That was his duty.

* * *

Life at the Officers Academy was supposed to be simple. Attend for a couple years, learn about combat and interact with citizens from across Fodlan, and then return home after graduation. It was supposed to be that simple. And, in some ways, it was. The teachers were knowledgeable in their fields and excellent at imparting their wisdom. It was fascinating interacting with students from all over the continent and learning more about their homes and cultures. It was as it should have been.

But Dimitri was no fool. He saw the fractures underneath the exterior of their peaceful academy days.

Despite the genuine fondness he, Edelgard, and Claude had for each other, he could sense an underlying tension between them that went beyond mere rivalry, something that seemed to also be affecting their homelands. There were issues cropping up regarding the crests, issues that had always been brewing under society's surface for years and years. Breaks within the Church itself, factions forming and fighting each other. Rebellions against the Church. Then there was all that business with the Death Knight and the Flame Emperor. So much chaos, hinting at something greater in Fodlan's future.

And then there were certain issues within the Blue Lions.

Sylvain's tendency to woo young ladies had originally been an issue that needed Dimitri's close attention, despite the occasional fun he had betting on the outcomes of Sylvain's pursuits with Felix and Ingrid. But now, while it still needed to be addressed for the sake of propriety, it was more of a minor personal project. Dimitri would have never guessed that his spirited flirt of a friend would cause him the least headaches in the future among his childhood friends. But life always seemed to want the last laugh on him…

Ingrid was not someone others would expect Dimitri to have trouble with among his childhood friends. She was as knightly as ever, with a fine head on her shoulders and a genuinely kind heart. But Dimitri was not blind to her issues with the people of Duscur. With Dedue, she appeared polite enough, talking civilly and working with him just fine on the battlefield. But Dimitri had known Ingrid too long not to see the coldness in their interactions on her part, how she never sought out Dedue's company except when Dimitri asked it of her. He had thought in all the time the Blue Lions had known each other, Ingrid's issues would improve on their own…It was a naïve thought, of course.

And then there was Felix…

Dimitri would never say that he and Felix weren't friends anymore. They still often sat by each other in their classes. They would just as often spar with each other or in the same group. They spoke together several times, especially when Sylvain and Ingrid were around as well. Several of those talks between them were normal, the same snarky remarks from Felix and the same fond exasperation from Dimitri. They were an effective team in battle, their strengths and weaknesses balancing well. And when Dimitri looked at Felix, when he thought of him, he still felt that same love and loyalty that he felt towards Sylvain and Ingrid. So no, Dimitri wouldn't say Felix wasn't his friend anymore.

And yet, something had changed on Felix's end.

At first Dimitri had assumed that Felix was sore about some minor issue, an argument Dimitri had forgotten or a recent spar. But time passed and passed, and Felix's interactions with him remained off. While Felix never outright ignored him, he didn't seek out Dimitri's company in the same way he had in earlier years. Felix had more harsh words for him, more criticisms and complaints than what Dimitri was used to. Especially when Dimitri spoke of chivalry, one of the attributes that were important to the Blue Lions. Felix still had his snark, but he didn't laugh as much as he used to, joke as much as he used to, instead becoming more obsessed with his training and seeking out powerful opponents instead. While several of their conversations were just like they always were, so many others were shorter, awkward, with a hint of unspoken tension that Dimitri couldn't figure out the source of. Felix's interactions with Sylvain and Ingrid remained the same from what Dimitri could tell. It was only him.

…It brought back so many bad memories of when they were children, when he and Felix had their falling out following Dimitri learning about how Faerghus' citizens viewed their wild prince, following Felix's accident that would have never happened if Dimitri hadn't been selfish. Children were supposed to be quick to forgive, yet their problem had persisted for well over a year before they found a resolution. It was just like this: tense conversations, being together and yet feeling distant, being harsher than normal, preferring to do their own thing. Except this time, Dimitri was completely in the dark as to what was going on. What had he done to offend Felix? How long had this been going on for until Felix decided to distance himself?

"_I look forward to studying with you at the academy, partner."_

"…_Likewise, old friend…"_

He still remembered those words they had exchanged the week before they left for the Officers Academy. Though he supposed Felix never thought he had heard Felix's response to his words. But Felix's response back then had warmed him, made him feel like everything they had gone through in the years prior, all the changes they had gone through, those difficult times when they had been at odds, were worth it. It was all supposed to be over. Their friendship had been saved, was stronger than ever. All that should have been left was studying at the academy and becoming the people who would determine Faerghus', _Fodlan's_, future.

…Had they not solved their childhood issues after all…? Had they merely arrived at a temporary fix that made them forget their problems for years? Dimitri wanted to go up to Felix and ask, to talk things through. And yet he never could, his heart hammering whenever the thought came to him, his legs locking in place whenever he tried. So the issue persisted, on and on. Sylvain and Ingrid began to pick up on it, Ingrid sending both of them questioning glances and asking leading questions, Sylvain cornering them to try and drag details out of them. But nothing worked, nothing changed.

Dimitri didn't know what was happening, and that was terrifying.

And yet not as terrifying as what he overheard two of his fellow Blue Lions say one day.

"_Did you hear that His Highness and Lord Felix seem to be fighting? Actually, it's more like they don't spend much time together anymore."_

"_I heard! It's unbelievable, right? Haven't they been friends for over a decade? I feel bad for them, becoming so distant when they've been together for so long."_

"_Agreed. But you know what they say. There are times when friends, even ones who are very close, grow apart when they get older. People change, interests change. I guess that applies even to people who have known each other as long as they have."_

"_So, they're just growing apart? That's so sad…"_

Growing…apart…? They thought he and Felix were simply growing apart? The thought shook Dimitri to his core. He had known Felix since he was six years old. So many of his happiest memories growing up were connected to Felix. Their incredible misadventures, their growth as people. So much of his life, of who he was, was because he had Felix. And he was supposed to accept the idea that they were…growing apart? That this wasn't the result of another foolish argument he had forgotten about, something solvable? That this distance between him and his oldest friend was simply…something natural, inevitable?

The thought was so terrible, so unwanted, so _wrong_, that he ended up throwing up once he returned to his room. When his friends came to get him when he didn't show up for afternoon classes, he lied about something at lunch not agreeing with him and said he was going to rest in bed. The truth was that he truly was nauseous, his head pounding. The others accepted it easily enough, although Dedue had shown up hours later with a tray of various types of tea made with herbs from his garden. All guaranteed to help with stomach problems Dedue had told him, wearing that gentle smile of his.

…How pathetic of Dimitri, to be so badly affected by the idea of a friend drifting apart from him, something that was such a normal occurrence in any other person's life. But it wasn't just a friend for Dimitri, this was Felix. One of his dear childhood friends. And it made him sick to think that Felix could easily grow cold towards him. If it could happen to Felix, then couldn't it also happen to Ingrid? To Sylvain? What about the other Blue Lions, the people he had grown to consider precious to him? Mercedes, Ashe, Annette? Could even _Dedue_, with unquestioning loyalty that was as admirable as it was terrifying, one day grow tired of Dimitri as well?

…Would he be all alone…?

…But truly…how pathetic…He was a crown prince, he was seventeen years old. He was no longer a little boy who was stubborn to a fault and weak of heart and mind, the joke of the kingdom. At least, he _believed_ he no longer was such a person. He had worked hard for years to escape that image. Regardless, the fact remained that he was the heir to Faerghus' throne, one who must become a pillar of strength for the people once he became king. He couldn't be like this, getting physically ill and locking himself away in his room because of personal issues. His issues with his friends were not the kingdom's issues, were not matters for the people he served to worry themselves over. He couldn't let himself be affected by them, let others see what they were doing to him. He couldn't allow this to affect his duties.

Kingdom before king. The many before the one.

But…at least for the rest of the afternoon…he wished to be alone.

* * *

Sundays were free days for both students and teachers, a day to take a break from studies. And yet Dimitri found himself seated at a table in the library, surrounded by stacks of books on strategy and team building.

The day before the Blue Lions had a mock battle with the Golden Deer. It had been a rather close match, but Claude had managed to bring home the victory in the end. For all the man seemed carefree and unserious, his strategic mind could never be doubted. Mock battles were an excellent way to look for any matters that needed correcting in a team without risking any lives in the process. And Dimitri had noticed several issues among the Blue Lions.

Felix, ever playing the part of the lone wolf, would constantly run ahead in battles, leaving his support in the dust. Ingrid's difficulty cooperating with Dedue became much more obvious in a battle where there were no lives at stake. Dedue himself had no major issues except a tendency to focus a little too much on Dimitri's condition. Ashe still wasn't at ease on the battlefield, hesitating often, making it easier to target him. Annette, so focused on assisting everyone, would forget to look out for herself until an opponent got too close. Mercedes seemed to be just fine, other than her tendency to tire out quickly. Sylvain's habit of playing the big brother to the younger members of their house also meant that he wasn't leaving them much room to grow independent.

And then there was Dimitri himself…

Dimitri knew better than to critique himself. He could list dozens of failures and inadequacies if he did so. No one was a harsher critic than one's own mind, he supposed. He could ask the others if they had anything they wanted to say. But, knowing them, most of them were more likely to make it about their own faults than say there was anything wrong with him, they were too kind like that. Felix, as he was now, would definitely criticize him in excruciating detail but would likely take it too far for Dimitri to learn anything useful. And if Dimitri searched for advice outside of his friends, among the other Blue Lions, they'd be too nervous to consider criticizing their crown prince. Which left Dimitri with nothing and no one…

"Dimitri?"

The prince looked up at his name, only to see a familiar young man with teal hair and blue eyes standing by him.

"Oh, Professor Byleth!" Dimitri greeted.

"So _this_ is where the strategy book I was looking for went, I suppose?" Byleth asked, glancing over at one of the stacks of books near Dimitri as he took a seat at the table.

"Haha, my apologies, I didn't mean to monopolize them," Dimitri gestured towards the books, "Please, feel free to take what you need."

Byleth nodded before he grabbed a book from the middle of one of the stacks. He didn't say anything else, quietly reading through the book as Dimitri tried to focus on his own book. But it was hard not to glance at the young man sitting across from him.

Byleth, a mercenary by trade and the son of the famed Jeralt, had been a professor at the Officers Academy for a little over a month. It was odd having someone only a few years older than the average student become a professor, especially a professor in charge of one of the houses, the Blue Lions to be exact. But Dimitri, Edelgard, and Claude had all seen for themselves just how skilled the stoic young mercenary was when he and his father had saved them from bandits. And it seemed Rhea had agreed, offering Byleth a teaching position at the academy. To have someone like Byleth teaching the Blue Lions was quite the boon, in Dimitri's opinion.

Dimitri and Byleth kept reading in silence for several minutes before it struck Dimitri. He had someone he could ask an opinion of after all.

"Professor?" Dimitri said quietly, waiting for Byleth to look up from his book before continuing, "Could I ask you to critique my performance in yesterday's mock battle?"

"Didn't I say we would do critiques during Monday's morning lessons?" Byleth responded, putting down his book.

"Yes, I know…But…"

But he had to know. He _had_ to. If he waited until the next day to get something, _anything_, his mind would never leave him be.

Byleth stared at him for a moment before he closed his eyes, a hand at his chin. Dimitri had noticed it was the professor's habit whenever he was reviewing information. After a few moments of silence, Byleth opened his eyes and spoke.

"You did a fine job as a leader yesterday. And your form was clean too. I'd recommend you work on controlling your strength though."

Dimitri nodded at the comment, knowing very well that he had issues when it came to holding back. He couldn't imagine how long the list would be of objects he had broken over the years just because he wasn't aware of his own strength.

"Controlling your strength is vital to avoiding getting exhausted too quickly. Once you learn better control, I'm sure you'll find yourself needing fewer breaks in battle. As for other issues…I would suggest you learn to focus more on yourself than others."

"Wh-what?" Dimitri stuttered, having not expected that.

"You're kind, Dimitri," Byleth replied, crossing his arms in front of him as he leaned back in his chair, "And because you're kind, you worry a lot about others. In yesterday's mock battle I saw how often you requested reports on everyone's status, how often you yourself searched for the others to see how they were doing. It's the mark of a good leader, one who cares for those under their command…"

"But…?"

"But you're neglecting yourself, whether you realize it or not," Byleth's stare made Dimitri tense, sitting up straighter, "Focusing too much on how others are faring only adds to the stress you're under. You're already thinking about your own condition, the condition of the enemy, strategies, terrain, weather, weapons, and so forth. All that stress takes a toll on you, clouds your judgement, exhausts you as much as physical activity does. Adding more stressors that you don't need hurts yourself, and in turn hurts your chances in battle."

"But success can only be obtained by working as a team," Dimitri argued, "Is it not a leader's duty to make sure those in their team are in good condition? So that there aren't any casualties brought about by carelessness?"

"I agree, of course. But as I said, _you_ overdo it. You're adding unneeded stress by constantly worrying over others. Concerning yourself over your fellows and checking on their condition is fine in moderation, and it helps morale. But if you constantly check up on the others, aren't you implying that you don't trust their capabilities? That you think they can't handle themselves?"

Dimitri stared at Byleth as he considered those words. Was that true? Had he been unknowingly telling the others he didn't believe in them? He knew very well how strong all of them were, that they could handle themselves. He wouldn't allow them on the battlefield if he didn't think so. But…when they weren't in sight…When he didn't know how they were doing…

"I'm not saying don't check up on them at all," Byleth said, as if knowing Dimitri's thoughts, "Just choose carefully when you do it. Such as during the lull after a particularly fearsome bout. That way they'll know you care but also know that you trust them to be able to take care of themselves."

"I understand…Thank you, Professor."

"It's my job to make you all ready for combat," Byleth stood up, book in hand, "I hope you don't mind if I take this? I need to review my lesson plans for tomorrow."

Dimitri nodded, thanking him once more for the critique. Now Dimitri had things to work on along with addressing the others' issues. Byleth took a few steps away from the table before turning back to face Dimitri. The prince looked over at the professor curiously. Byleth's face looked as stoic as ever, and yet there was a slight furrow to his brow.

"Is something wrong, Professor?"

Byleth remained quiet, seemingly struggling with whether or not to say something. It was…odd. Dimitri had never seen the professor look like this. After a moment, Byleth walked back to the table, placing his book down and taking a chair, moving it beside Dimitri before taking a seat.

"…How do you feel about battles, Dimitri?"

That…hadn't been what Dimitri was expecting…

"You mean, in general?" Dimitri asked. After Byleth nodded, Dimitri looked down, "It would be wonderful to live in truly peaceful times, of course. But battles are a part of our lives, whether we like it or not. So we must accept-"

"You know that's not what I'm asking," Byleth interrupted, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

…He knew that. He'd been hoping Byleth wouldn't say anything though. His own failures were nobody's problem except his own. How shameful it would be, as the heir to the kingdom of Faerghus and descendant of the legendary King of Lions, to speak of his true thoughts. But, knowing Byleth, there was no way Dimitri would be able to escape without answering. And Dimitri had been a terrible liar his whole life. So, he would have to compromise with his own feelings. He would tell a short version of the truth.

"…Well, this may sound strange coming from me, the heir to a land of knights, but battles make me sick."

"Sick?" Byleth repeated, his expression neutral.

"It's not that I hate fighting itself. When I'm fighting, I feel at ease, bizarre as it may sound. It's _killing_. I've never gotten used to taking another life. But I can focus well enough during battle though, you have no need to worry about that, Professor."

Dimitri stared at his hands, remembering all the times he'd seen blood soak them, remembering the weight of his lance. Remembering all the times he felt like he would throw up, like he would pass out. Remembering the moments where his mind went blank in battle, when he'd stare and stare at a corpse, not recalling what his thoughts were as he couldn't tear his gaze away. Remembering those nightmares of Edelgard or Claude impaled on his lance, smiling at him like always despite their wounds. Of being surrounded by the broken bodies of Felix, Ingrid, Sylvain, Dedue, Mercedes, Ashe, and Annette. Of other horrific nightmares, from long ago. So many nightmares…_too many_…

He couldn't help but believe it was good that he wasn't used to killing, that it meant he must value life, that it'll make sure his judgement stays sound and clear. And yet he also considered it a fault. How could he possibly protect his kingdom if death shook him to his core so badly? How was he supposed to be Faerghus' guardian if he shook after every death he caused, even if he never broke until he was safely hidden away in his room, away from others?

"…I see…"

Dimitri tensed at Byleth's words. He sounded…_off_. As if what Dimitri said wasn't what he had expected to hear. He wanted to ask what the problem was, and yet Dimitri remained quiet. Afraid of what Byleth might say…He started wringing his hands, a lifelong nervous tic he'd never been able to get rid of. What was the purpose of the question? What was Byleth searching for? What could-?

Dimitri's mind went blank as he felt a slight weight atop his head. Eyes wide, he looked at Byleth, whose hand was slowly ruffling Dimitri's hair, so much gentler than he'd ever expected from the mercenary. The corners of Byleth's eyes were crinkling subtly, the softest smile Dimitri had ever seen gracing his face.

The silence between them must have stretched into awkwardness, as Byleth quickly retracted his hand, as if he'd been burned. Cheeks faintly pink, Byleth quickly set his chair back in place and retrieved his book.

"Sorry," the professor muttered, not meeting Dimitri's eyes, "I-it's something my father always does when I'm upset. I-I must've picked up his habit. That is, I-"

Byleth's words cut off when Dimitri started chuckling. It was as if all the tension Byleth's question had brought Dimitri disappeared, his chest feeling so much lighter.

"Please, it's alright," Dimitri said, trying to hide his smile behind a hand.

After all, he got to see a new side to the infamously stern-faced Professor Byleth.

* * *

A few days passed and Dimitri found himself walking though the academy's gardens after evening classes. Seeing the colors that surrounded him, smelling the sweet scent of the flowers, he was understanding more and more what Dedue found so appealing about gardening. A wave of peace washed over him as he followed the pathways, glad that he was alone for his walk.

…He hadn't been able to sleep for the past few nights. For once it wasn't because of disturbing nightmares or anxiety for the future, for how he was doing as a prince. This time his lack of sleep, oddly enough, was connected to how exhausted he was after Byleth had critiqued everyone's actions during their mock battle with the Golden Deer.

Dimitri had been spending the past few days working with his fellow Blue Lions to correct the flaws Byleth had noted, the same flaws Dimitri himself had noticed. Generally speaking, it was going well. Mercedes helped Annette to pay more attention, just as Annette gave Mercedes tips to keep her energy up. Ashe constantly went to Byleth for advice, wanting to rid himself of his fear of violence. Of course, there were those exceptions.

Such as Sylvain. Telling Sylvain not to be protective over the younger students was like stripping a Pegasus of its wings, forcing it to remain grounded. It was in his nature to look out for them, just as he'd often looked out for their group of friends as they were growing up. Dimitri had never seen Sylvain take anything as seriously as he did playing the role of the Blue Lions' surrogate brother. Ingrid was taking Dimitri's criticisms about her attitude towards Dedue, and the people of Duscur as a whole, to heart. And yet there wasn't much progress. Ingrid was struggling against something gripping firmly at her heart, anyone who had grown up with her knew that very well. But Dimitri also knew her generalizations were wrong, that she could be better. For as unhesitatingly Dedue usually followed the prince's orders, telling him to concentrate less on Dimitri was the one thing he was obstinate about. Dimitri knew about the "life debt" he felt he owed to the prince, but it was starting to scare him how determined Dedue was to do anything for Dimitri. He didn't want to know what that "anything" could include in the future if he didn't stop Dedue soon.

As for Felix…Well, the less said about his interactions with Felix nowadays, the better. He left it up to Byleth, Ingrid, and Sylvain to deal with him.

…Who was he fooling? It was obvious why he hadn't been sleeping.

But this couldn't continue. Refusing to sleep meant his mind would falter at the worst times, he could collapse at the wrong moment. And what would that mean? Injury. Death. Lost lives and broken people, all because of his carelessness, his weakness. So, although it made his head pound and his stomach churn to force himself away from his duties, he took a short break in the gardens.

Eventually Dimitri came across a large tree with many thick branches and gorgeous green leaves. While Dimitri didn't remember much from his earliest years, he had a few distinct memories that involved climbing trees. One of those memories being one of the worst incidents from his childhood. It had been so many years since he had last climbed a tree, the ones by the castle either being too weak to hold his weight or far too big to even make an attempt. Furthermore, it was improper, a crown prince climbing trees.

And yet, before his mind could catch up with his actions, he took several steps back and ran at the tree, jumping and grabbing onto one of the lowest branches.

He was out of practice, nearly slipping a few times and earning a tear in his pants that would be a pain to explain away. But he made it up, finding a sturdy branch to lay down on. It was uncomfortable, the bark digging into his skin, the leaves prickling at him, brushing off ants and beetles.

…But it was nostalgic…

Dimitri didn't know how much time passed as he lay on that branch, listening to the birds chirping and the wind whistling through the leaves. A few times he considered getting down before someone saw him, especially when he heard other students passing by. However, the number of leaves and branches did an excellent job of shielding him from view yet allowing little gaps for him to peak out from.

As the evening turned to twilight, Dimitri couldn't help but feel like a carefree child once again.

"What is this about, son?"

The gruff voice startled Dimitri, who had been daydreaming about the past. He glanced out through one of the gaps in the leaves and saw a man with brown hair and a beard. Jeralt, the mercenary who was once a famous member of the Knights of Seiros, was walking down the path in the direction of the tree Dimitri was hiding in. Walking beside him was Byleth, sticking rather close to his father.

Dimitri's mind waged war between jumping out of the tree now and dealing with the embarrassment of being caught by his head professor and a famed knight or staying in place and figuring out what this was about, risking being caught eavesdropping.

…Eavesdropping won out in the end, although Dimitri had never pictured himself the type to listen in on other people's conversations…At least, not since he was a child. But there was the appeal of seeing another new side of Byleth. Everyone knew how stern and calm the man was most of the time. But as Dimitri watched Byleth sticking close to Jeralt as they walked closer to the tree, he felt that Byleth's face was softer than usual. Was he always like that around his father? If so, it was rather sweet, to be honest.

Byleth and Jeralt came to a stop by a bench less than a foot away Dimitri's tree, taking a seat on it. Dimitri held his breath, staying as still as possible. Once he was certain the pair hadn't noticed him, he shifted his concentration to listening to what they were talking about.

"Father, I need some advice," Byleth said, "Do you remember what I said back when we first came to the monastery? About what I thought when we first met Dimitri, Edelgard, and Claude?"

Dimitri raised an eyebrow at the words. What could Byleth have possibly thought about him and his fellow house leaders?

"Hmm, yes, I remember," Jeralt replied, "What of it?"

"…It's about what I said regarding Dimitri."

The prince tried to ignore the thud, thud, _thud_ of his heart at that comment. It couldn't be bad, it couldn't. Byleth had chosen to teach the Blue Lions of his own free will. He wouldn't have done so if he thought anything bad of Dimitri…right?

"Faerghus' prince, huh?" Jeralt said. He smiled at Byleth, "What's the matter, Byleth? Your little lion cubs are giving you trouble?"

"Father, _please_," Byleth groaned, "You speak as if they're my children. I'm not _that_ much older than them…Even though I feel I age a few years every time I'm with them."

"So you say!" Jeralt let out a short laugh, "But as much as you complain to me, it's easy to see how fond you are of them. Did you forgot how you were bragging to me about their growth since you first met them?"

Byleth shoved his father lightly, face flushed. Despite Dimitri's anxiousness over what the professor wanted to say about him, he couldn't help but smile at seeing Byleth act so _young_. Besides, it was heartening to hear that Byleth truly did enjoy being with the Blue Lions.

But, as if sensing Dimitri's anxiety, Byleth stared at the ground, a frown on his face. Jeralt watched his son, a curious look on his face.

"So, what's your issue with the prince?"

"…He hides things," Byleth replied after a moment, eyes still locked on the ground, "Not always, but he does. He's good at it too, most people wouldn't think twice of what he says. But I've seen the way he looks when I ask something he doesn't want to talk about. The slightest shift in his brow, the way his pupils dilate, his fingers twitch. And then, in an instant, his expression is perfectly pleasant when he finally answers me."

"You believe he lies to you?" Jeralt asked, leaning back against the bench.

"No, I'm certain everything he tells me is the truth. It's more that he's…omitting a lot. Not out of ill intentions either. More as though he doesn't trust me, doesn't trust _anyone_, with his true thoughts."

Trust…No, it wasn't about trust. Dimitri trusted Byleth, truly he did. He wouldn't be so willing to let him lead his House, listen to his advice, if he didn't trust Byleth. In his abilities, his nature. And Dimitri would place his life in the hands of any of the Blue Lions, unhesitatingly. He didn't have to think twice, he trusted them. Dimitri had half a mind to climb down from the tree and tell Byleth so. However, Jeralt unknowingly answered for him.

"No, I don't believe it's a matter of trust. Considering his position, I would say it's more of a case of putting on a mask. Maintaining a strong face, for the sake of others."

…How scarily perceptive the man was…

"What do you mean, Father?" Byleth asked, his brow furrowed slightly.

"Do you remember when you were sixteen?" Jeralt crossed his arms in front of him as he looked at his son, "I sent you on your very first solo scouting mission, and when you came back with your report, I thought everything had gone well. But-"

"But I had gotten unexpectedly spotted by one of the enemy's own scouts and stabbed in the back," Byleth continued, placing a hand over his face, "I hid the wound from you and tried to clean it myself. But I did a terrible job of it, and it got infected."

"Leaving you bedridden for three weeks," Jeralt responded, glaring, "…You nearly died from what would normally be a minor wound. And _why_ did you choose to hide it?"

"…I didn't want to be treated as a child anymore," Byleth muttered, not meeting Jeralt's eyes, "I thought if you knew I got hurt the first time you sent me off alone, it'd be years before you let me do things on my own again. I wanted you to think I was as capable a mercenary as anyone else in the company."

"Indeed…It's not exactly the same for Prince Dimitri. He's the heir to the Kingdom of Faerghus, a position of power and prestige we're not familiar with. But you can imagine the life he's led, the stress he's under. As one who'll be king one day, he probably feels the pressure of being an unshakable pillar of strength for his people. He needs to be seen as capable, so his people won't lose faith in their royal family."

Dimitri briefly closed his eyes, remembering all the talks his parents had given him about becoming a true king, one who his ancestors would be proud of.

"I understand, Father," Byleth said. He frowned at Jeralt, fists clenched, "But still, there's staying strong for others, and then there's what Dimitri's doing. You know as well as I do that suppressing your problems all the time does a number on your mental state."

"But you can't force anything out of the boy, Byleth," Jeralt replied firmly, "Trying to force someone to open up when they're unwilling only makes them grow wary of you. It shuts off any future chances you have."

"I may already have few future chances," Byleth argued, "I told you, when I first met him, I sensed something about him. Hiding his problems may not be the whole reason for what I sensed, it may not even play a big role, but I'm sure it's making things worse."

…What had Byleth sensed in him? What was _wrong_ with him that his professor was acting like this? Byleth stood up suddenly, pacing in front of his seated father.

"I talked with him a few days ago," Byleth explained, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides in rhythmic fashion, "I asked him what he thought of battles, and he told me killing made him feel sick. And I believe him, truly I do. He's sincere in his hatred for taking a life. I've seen firsthand the way he stares at his hands after battles. The way he'll come report to me, acting as if his face isn't ten shades paler than it was before."

Was he truly so obvious? He was becoming careless, he needed to practice more. If people saw him like that, saw him in such a shameful state, how would they see him as a reliable leader? How could they rely on him in battle, a man who feared death?

"But there are these rare moments where he just _stares_, Father. He just stands there, staring at corpses. And the look on his face in those moments…it's not the face of someone who's _disgusted_."

Moments…where he stares at dead bodies…Stares and stares, not remembering what he's thinking, what his expression is like, as he can't tear his eyes away…

"At his heart, Dimitri is a kind boy. And I believe he truly despises killing people. But there's some part of him, some small part, that's off. And I know the more he doesn't speak his mind, the more he refuses to be weak in front of people he trusts, the more that off part of him is fed."

…But he couldn't be weak…Rulers didn't have such a luxury. Wasn't that what he had been taught? It was fine, _enough_, for him to have people he could smile and laugh with. Precious people he could make jokes with, have fun with, spar with, study with, grow up with. That was enough…They didn't need to trouble themselves with his worthless anxieties, his foolish nightmares.

Besides…if he allowed himself even a moment of weakness in front of others…What would become of him? What would they think of him…?

"He'll be overwhelmed if this continues, Father…" Byleth stopped pacing, "I can't allow that."

"Byleth," Jeralt started, only to be cut off by Byleth's fierce voice, louder than Dimitri had ever heard the mercenary speak before.

"I will _not_ stand back and watch him _break_!"

Dimitri stared. Another face he'd never seen before on Byleth.

Jeralt looked just as surprised by Byleth's shout, eyes wide as he looked at his son silently. After a few seconds, Byleth's face paled, apparently realizing he had just yelled at his father. Byleth quickly sat beside Jeralt.

"I-I'm sorry, Father," he murmured so softly Dimitri could barely hear him, "I didn't mean to raise my voice at you, I just-"

Byleth stopped talking as his father placed a hand atop his head, much like Byleth had done for Dimitri just days earlier. Byleth closed his eyes and leaned into his father's hand, reminding Dimitri of a cat.

"It's been years since I've seen you so passionate about something," Jeralt chuckled softly as he ruffled Byleth's hair, "…Maybe teaching was what you were meant to do."

Byleth gently swatted Jeralt's hand away in response as distant bells chimed. Byleth and Jeralt rose from their seats as they looked in the direction of the bells.

"Sounds like it's dinnertime," Jeralt said, turning towards Byleth, "Why don't you join me? The rest of the company's missed having you around."

Byleth nodded, the pair walking back towards the main building of the monastery. Dimitri stared after them silently.

…It was long after sunset by the time he brought himself to come down from the tree. It was too late for him to get food from the dining hall, so he decided to head for the dorms instead. Perhaps he'd finally, _finally_, get some sleep. As he walked through the halls towards his room, a voice called out to him from behind him. He turned, only to see Dedue walking up to him, papers in hand.

"Your Highness!" Dedue greeted. Dimitri noticed his eyes lock onto the tear on his pants, "…Would you like me to mend those for you?"

"Dedue, that's not your job," Dimitri told him, much like he'd told him so often before.

"I don't mind, Your Highness. I enjoy sewing."

"…Alright, if you truly don't mind, I'll lend them to you tomorrow…Those papers are from the capital, aren't they? Let me see."

Dimitri held out a hand, but to his surprise Dedue didn't give him the papers. Dedue's expression was troubled as he looked over Dimitri's face, Dimitri having difficulty maintaining eye contact the longer the silence dragged on.

"There's nothing urgent," Dedue finally said, holding the papers close to his chest, "I'll give them to you tomorrow."

"Come now, Dedue, I'll decide for myself how urgent they are."

If there was work to do, it was better to take care of it as soon as possible than waste time. He knew how strict some nobles were about timely correspondences, and how elegantly worded their anger could be if Dimitri didn't respond to them satisfyingly.

"With all due respect, Your Highness, you don't look like you're in any condition to look at these tonight."

Ah…He really was slipping…First Byleth, and now Dedue. Had he made such mistakes in front of anyone else recently? Or had he simply underestimated how observant they were?

"I didn't see you at dinner," Dedue said softly, "I left a tray in your room. Nothing heavy since you'll be sleeping soon, but I hope it satisfies you."

"You're too good to me," Dimitri muttered, glancing in the direction of his room.

"I merely perform as expected of me, as you deserve."

…As he deserved, huh?

"Okay, I'll look over the papers tomorrow," Dimitri said after a moment, "I think I'm more exhausted than I realized. Goodnight, Dedue."

"I hope you sleep well, Your Highness," Dedue smiled at him before walking off.

He hoped so too…

* * *

…Sometimes he dreamed of Edelgard and Claude…

Edelgard always wore a mask, much like Dimitri did. However, unlike Dimitri, Edelgard was just as strong beneath her façade. Strong in body, mind, and spirit. She kept so many people at arm's length, her heart gated with only a select few who had the key. Ambitious and aloof. Yet he had grown to see her as a friend. Despite their conflicting ideals on justice, on right and wrong. They spoke often, trained often. And sometimes, when she smiled at him, he felt that their friendship was genuine after all.

Claude too wore his own mask, but for him his true self blended in so much with the fake. It was difficult to tell what was a ruse and what was reality with him. On the surface he was easygoing, cheerful, never taking anything seriously. But only true fools wouldn't see that the man was a brilliant tactician, had deep thoughts on so many subjects, always had a scheme in the back of his mind to turn the tides of battle. But he was kind, truly. As much as he and Claude were rivals, as much as Dimitri was never certain about anything around him, he considered Claude another friend.

Their homelands would be wary of the bond between the three of them. Despite the relative peace they currently lived in, tensions remained. There were many in Adrestia who still believed Faerghus and Leicester had no right separating from the empire and that action should be taken, for the sake of a unified Fodlan. There were many in Faerghus who were wary that Adrestia was too big a threat to ignore, that Leicester was suspicious with their love of what was considered underhanded tactics. There were many in Leicester who feared the looming threat that was the Adrestian Empire, who considered Faerghus too pretentious and rigid in their claims of chivalry and justice.

Their people would prefer the three of them remain on guard with each other, that they compete to prove whose land was truly superior. And, in some respects, the relationship between the three of them was like that. But they cared about each other, to varying degrees. Dimitri feared the possibility of war breaking out between them. They were friends, he didn't want to wage war.

But perhaps that was why they sometimes cursed his dreams.

Sometimes it was Edelgard, laying on the ground, white hair fanned out and rapidly staining red from a growing pool of blood. His lance would be embedded deep in her chest, his breathing heavy, his arms shaking. But she would grin and slowly reach out a hand to him.

"_And here I thought you were always too softhearted for the battlefield…To think I was such a fool."_

"I didn't want this," he gasps, yet not pulling the lance out, "I swear, _I didn't want this_!"

"_You're still talking like that? Come now, Dimitri. It would be pathetic for me to fall to someone whose ambitions don't equal, if not surpass, my own."_

"I have no ambitions," his voice cracks as he shakes his head, "There's nothing I want. Nothing worth _this_!"

"…_Are you certain about that?"_

Dimitri would blink and then it would be Claude impaled on his lance, the yellow parts of his uniform turning a muddy brown from the blood. He would let out a laugh and then cough, blood splattering across Dimitri's face. His smile would be playful, even in a situation like this.

"_Ha, no hard feelings! The better man won in the end…I shouldn't have considered you so naïve."_

"Stop it!" he shouts, his chest aching as he struggled to breathe, "This isn't some _game_!"

"_Always so serious, aren't you? …That's alright, it's how you are. But still, I wanted to keep going. To complete my vision with my own hands."_

"Stop talking like that," he tries so hard to keep steady, "You want a brighter future, right? Then live and seek it! I'll help you!"

"_Ah, but are your visions for the future the same as my own?"_

Other times, it was the Blue Lions who were laying dead before his eyes. Sometimes by his hand, other times just broken before him. The first few times it happened, he screamed himself hoarse. He ran to them and struggled to wake them, to put them back together. But, now, he's only numb as he takes in the familiar scenes.

Annette, hardworking and sweet, laying on her back, staring up at nothing and no one. If it wasn't for the unnatural way her limbs were bending, she'd look like she was merely resting.

"_Did I mess up? I thought I had gotten better. I'm sorry, Prince Dimitri. I swear I'll do it right next time."_

Ashe, always eager and dedicated to what he does, slumped against an unseen object, eyes shut. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, from his ears.

"_I'm sorry, Your Highness. Please don't tell Sir Lonato about this. I don't want him to be disappointed in me."_

Mercedes, gentle and warm like a fire in the dead of winter, laying on her side. Her ponytail undone, her eyes blank and unseeing.

"_Even though you kindly welcomed me to Faerghus, this is how I repay you. Forgive me, my prince, for failing you."_

Dedue, loyal to a fault but so heartbreakingly kind despite everything, covered in wounds upon wounds. The smell of blood is overwhelming as Dedue smiles softly.

"_My life has always been yours, Your Highness. If this is how it must be, I'm fine with that. So long as you live."_

Sylvain, lively and loud, unrecognizable as the still and battered figure laying face down on the ground. Unrecognizable in the bitter resignation on his face.

"_This is just what I deserve, Dimitri. For never understanding a damn thing. For being a dirty thief. Forgive this idiot someday, okay?"_

Ingrid, serious in her duties but playful with her friends, is so broken that it's impossible to look at her. As if she had a long fall.

"_It's a knight's duty to serve their liege to the bitter end. I'm okay with this, Dimitri…Truly. Just make sure my Pegasus finds a more competent rider."_

Felix, fiery in resolve and focused on whatever he must do, has blood leaking from his nose, mouth, and ears. His hands twitch, as if trying to reach for swords that aren't anywhere in sight.

"_Dying for you? I didn't want such a stupid knightly end. But this would be how it goes, huh? I can't escape you, no matter what…Don't make this worthless, you damn boar."_

And other times…Other times…No! He didn't want to think of _that_, never. He wanted to push those memories deep down, throw those nightmares away. If he allowed them to come to the surface…What would he do…? But those thoughts were always with him…

And still…Other times…Rare, _rare_ times…It would be just him, blood covering his face, his clothes, his lance. Surrounded by nothing, hearing nothing, seeing nothing, feeling _nothing_.

He despised killing. Killing for fun, killing out of anger, killing out of bloodlust, killing in the name of seeking justice. It wasn't right.

But didn't some people deserve death? Shouldn't they pay for what they had done? Wasn't it foolish to allow them to live, to have them threaten more innocent lives?

He felt sick to his core when he took a life. The blood would drain from his face and he would shake. Once in a while, when he was alone, he would throw up as the images of the corpses raced through his thoughts. He hated it…He hated it so much!

But he still kept fighting, still killed of his own volition, on other people's orders.

Sometimes he stared and stared at corpses, his head pounding and heart aching. His limbs shaking at what he had done. How _disturbing_.

…Sometimes he stared and stared at corpses, his head pounding and heart racing. It was curious and strange, watching them fall by his hand. How _fascinating_.

But he didn't want to kill. He was sick and tired of death taking over his life.

And yet he kept going…And the more it continued, the more the adrenaline raced through his veins.

"…_I believe he truly despises killing people. But there's some part of him, some small part, that's off…"_

…He knew…He had already known from a long time ago…But he wanted to ignore that part of him, didn't want to accept it. To accept it would make it real, force him to acknowledge that he was a pathetic prince, someone the Blue Lions, that Faerghus as a whole, didn't deserve as their leader.

But how desperately he wanted to be what Faerghus needed. He had to be the crown prince, the future king, the people deserved. If it came out how warped he was, everything would end. Everyone's faith in him, in the royal family. Everyone's thoughts on how much he had improved from the terror of a boy he was years ago. His friends would be disgusted by him. Maybe this was why Felix had become colder, he had already begun to sense the kind of person Dimitri really was. Byleth so easily spoke of wanting Dimitri to be more open, to talk of his weaknesses. But airing out such weaknesses would destroy everything he held dear, wouldn't it?

…It was for the good of the kingdom. For the sake of his people's, his friends', happiness. No one needed to burden themselves with his problems. He would face it alone, fight it alone, and remain the pillar of strength and chivalry that Faerghus needed. People would continue to believe in him, and he wouldn't let them down.

Even if the body breaks, the mind shatters, the soul corrupts.

Protect. Protect. _Protect_.

* * *

The Blue Lions had been on their journey back to the monastery after handling a rebellion near the border of Adrestia and Faerghus. Such rebellions were becoming more and more common as time passed. A sign of troubling times to come…

The group was exhausted from their battle, the rebel forces being larger and much fiercer than initial reports had said. But victory was theirs. The group was still several miles from the monastery when they had run into some of the Church's scouts.

A group of thirty bandits was getting close to a village about half a mile away from their current position. It would be a massacre if help didn't arrive soon. But by the time the scouts reached the monastery and delivered their report, by the time it was decided what actions should be taken and who should go, it would be far too late for the village.

"We're the closest," Dimitri said, eyeing Byleth, "We can take care of this."

"Hold on, Dimitri," Byleth has a hand to his chin as he gazes in the direction of the troubled village, "Everyone hasn't fully recovered from our last battle."

"If we could take on sixty rebels who have years of combat training, we can take on thirty bandits," Dimitri argued, grip tightening around his lance, "We have to go, or else help won't reach them in time."

Byleth still looked unsure as he looked over the Blue Lions. But Dimitri couldn't allow them to walk away, even if they were all tired from their battle and the long march back to the monastery.

"Do you not trust in our abilities, Professor?" Dimitri asked in a whisper, "Haven't we grown since you came to teach us?"

Byleth narrowed his eyes at Dimitri, opening his mouth to reply. That is, until some of the other Blue Lions spoke up.

"I agree with His Highness!" Ashe said, a frantic look on his face, "We're the only ones who can protect those people!"

"We may be tired but leaving them without trying to help is sickening," Ingrid agreed firmly.

"It's our responsibility to protect those who can't defend themselves, Professor!" Annette added, fists clenched tightly as she stared Byleth down.

Byleth gazed at the students before letting out a long sigh and glancing over at Dimitri.

"Alright, as you wish…But you all _will_ follow my orders once we get there."

After ordering the scouts to send reinforcements as soon as possible, Byleth led the students in the direction of the village. As they got closer and closer, a dense fog blanketed the area. By the time they reached a hill overlooking the village, the fog was so thick that all they could see in the distance were faint shadows and small flickers of light.

But the screams of fallen villagers and the mocking laughs of bandits were loud and clear.

"I wanna say those lights I see are just torches the villagers set up," Sylvain said, wincing as another scream pierced the air, "But it looks like those bandits have already started to set fire to the place."

"How awful!" Mercedes cried, a trembling hand over her mouth, "We must help them, but how do we handle this fog?"

"It's far too thick," Dedue added as he calmly observed their surroundings, "It will be too dangerous for anyone to ride their mounts with such low visibility."

"The more we talk, the more people are dying out there," Felix cut in, drawing his sword, "Let's just get to work."

"_Hold_," Byleth ordered sternly, grabbing Felix by the back of his shirt, "With these conditions, no one can go alone. We'll divide ourselves into teams."

Byleth teamed up with Ingrid, Dedue with both Annette and Mercedes, Felix with Sylvain, and Dimitri was paired with Ashe. With strict orders to not go into the battlefield alone and that all mounted units were to go at it on foot, the Blue Lions set off to save the village.

Normally a battle against some bandits would be simple. But the fog was truly a nightmare to deal with. People would practically appear out of thin air from the fog, leaving Dimitri the briefest of seconds to identify them as an ally, villager, or bandit before he could act. Far too many times he stumbled over a fallen body. And whenever he did engage in combat, he received more injuries than normal, thanks to both the fog and the wounds from the Blue Lions' earlier battle with the rebels slowing him down.

"On your left!" Ashe cried suddenly from behind him, Dimitri moving his head just as Ashe released an arrow, striking the incoming bandit in the eye.

"Your vision is extraordinary, Ashe," Dimitri said as he stabbed the bandit's neck before moving on.

"Heh, I do my best, Your Highness," Ashe replied sheepishly. Dimitri turned when he heard a hiss, seeing Ashe gripping at his side, which had been struck by a lance earlier, "Ow! It's really starting to sting now."

Dimitri's own wounds were beginning to ache as well, both the old ones from their previous battle and the new stab wounds to his back and leg. As the two carefully moved forward, they came across a large building, bigger than the homes they had passed so far. There was faint talking and crying coming from within the building. The pair nodded at each other before approaching the door, Dimitri knocking on it loudly before making a move to open it, surprised to find it unlocked.

"Excuse me!" he called as he slowly opened the door, "My name is-OW!"

Dimitri was cut off as a pot was thrown at him, hitting him in the head.

"Why won't you bandits leave us alone?" a young woman cried as she searched the ground, probably looking for another projectile.

"Wait, please!" Dimitri said, a hand pressed against his aching forehead, "We're students at the Officers Academy!"

"Hold on, look at their uniforms," an elderly man spoke up, "Yes, those are the uniforms for the academy!"

"Like those two ladies over there!" a young child said as she pointed behind a table.

Two ladies? Dimitri and Ashe quickly made their way over to where the girl was pointing.

"Milord? Ashe?"

Dimitri froze in place at the weak voice, seeing Ingrid laying on the ground atop a thin blanket, Mercedes kneeling beside her, holding a small roll of bandages.

"What happened?" Ashe asked as he and Dimitri knelt down beside the ladies, "Wh-where's the professor? And Annette and Dedue?"

"Unfortunately, it seems arrows are my weakness, even when I'm not riding Marcia," Ingrid groaned. Dimitri sucked in a breath when he noticed a sizable wound on Ingrid's neck, "It was really close. Between that and the axe that grazed the back of my legs, I couldn't go any further. I'm so sorry…"

"Please, don't apologize, Ingrid," Dimitri hated how choked his voice sounded.

"Professor Byleth brought her here, the village's meeting hall," Mercedes explained, pouring some ointment onto the bandages before she began to wrap it around Ingrid's neck, "Annie, Dedue, and I had already come across this place earlier."

"Children, the elderly, and all those unable to fight were brought here," Ingrid said, wincing now and then as Mercedes wrapped her neck wound, "Everyone else is trying to drive out the bandits."

"When I saw all the injured villagers, I sent Annie and Dedue off so that I could treat these people. I only have so many supplies, but I hope what little I can do is helping."

"Professor Byleth was angry that you were by yourself. But when you reminded him that he said no one was allowed on the _battlefield_ alone…The look on his face!"

"Yes, I've never seen such expressions from him before," Mercedes chuckled as she finished wrapping Ingrid's neck, "Alright, turn over so I can work on your legs, Ingrid."

"But the _professor_ went off alone?" Ashe asked in amazement as Ingrid slowly turned over, Dimitri helping her when he saw how shaky she was.

"I wouldn't have expected otherwise," Dimitri sighed, "He's a professional, after all."

He looked around at all the villagers who were laying side by side, covered in so many wounds. He looked over to the villagers who were uninjured but unable to fight back against this threat to their lives. Holding each other as they shivered, the muffled sounds of screams and laughter from outside the building filtering in.

…So many small children, crying in fear…

"Ashe," Dimitri called softly as he stood up. Ashe scrambled to his feet, hissing and clutching at his wound for a moment before following the prince a few feet away from Ingrid and Mercedes, "Tell Mercedes to check out your wound. And stay here, okay?"

"Wait, _what_?" Ashe replied with shock, "No, Your Highness, if you're going then so am I!"

"Ingrid is incapacitated, and Mercedes has her hands full treating all these injured people. If bandits attack this building, they may be overwhelmed."

"Then stay here with us! We'll defend this place together!"

"I can't," Dimitri shook his head, looking back at the door, "If I stay too, that would mean leaving the professor, Felix, Sylvain, Dedue, and Annette to deal with everything out there by themselves."

He couldn't do that. The idea of waiting in one place, knowing that people he cared for were fighting for their lives out of his sight, made him sick. He and Ashe had taken down seven bandits. That left twenty-three others unaccounted for. And he knew how tired and injured the others were from their battle with the rebels. Even Byleth, for how strong and stoic he seemed, must be far more exhausted than he was letting on.

He _had_ to go out there…For his friends…For his honor as the leader.

"I'm counting on you, Ashe," Dimitri said with finality before he sprinted out the door, ignoring the way Ashe called out to him.

The fog was just as bad as ever. But there were fewer screams filling the air. Dimitri hoped desperately that it meant the surviving villagers had found safety…not that the only people left alive were the ones hiding in that meeting hall. He jumped over several bodies, not bringing himself to take a second look to see who they were if he didn't notice them wearing the academy's uniform. Minutes and minutes passed, and yet he wasn't finding anyone.

He had to find the others…He had to know they were alright!

"_But if you constantly check up on the others, aren't you implying that you don't trust their capabilities? That you think they can't handle themselves?"_

Byleth's words suddenly struck him, bringing Dimitri to a standstill. It had been weeks since Byleth had spoken to him in that library…Since he had received that critique, had said he understood what Byleth was saying.

But this was different, wasn't it? It wasn't that he didn't trust the others. He knew how hurt they already were. What if they were taken down, suffering alone, waiting for someone to find them?

…They were all strong though. They were smart and capable…

But what would he do if something happened? He was the one who brought up coming to this village in the first place. Pushed the professor to bring them here. Ingrid had nearly been killed because of his decision…Ashe had been struck by that lance and was certainly suffering much more than he let on.

But they had all agreed to come, hadn't they? It wasn't all on his shoulders.

It wasn't…And yet…_And yet_…

"GRRRAAAHHH!"

Dimitri's body reacted before his mind caught up with the situation, lifting his lance up to parry the sword the bandit swung down on him. He quickly stepped backwards as the bandit recovered and began to charge him, blade raised high.

Dimitri's mind focused on searching for an opening, his body instinctively parrying each blow the bandit tried to land.

_There_!

As the bandit raised his sword, Dimitri paused for just a moment before thrusting his lance forward, aiming dead center at his opponent's chest. The bandit released his sword as he shouted, reaching down to claw at his chest. With a grunt, Dimitri pushed his lance forward, hearing the tip exiting through the bandit's back. With one more push, the bandit fell on his back, gurgling as he twitched. Dimitri kept a firm grip on the lance as he stared down at the man.

Really…what was so appealing about this? What was it about watching someone twitch and shake as they struggled for breath, choking on their own blood, that made people love killing others? What was it about watching the light in their eyes fade, their soul leaving them, that made it so easy for people to fight and fight and fight to the bitter end? What made it so hard to look away?

…Was it the feeling of his blood pumping through his veins, the thrill coursing through him? Was it that feeling of "serves you right"? That they were the ones who attacked an innocent village and killed harmless people, so this was what they had coming? Was it the feeling of having power over another?

…What wasn't he understanding?

In an instant, it was as if his blood turned to ice. A numbing cold spread over him as he realized what he was doing. As the bandit took his final gasp, Dimitri released his lance, still sticking out of the bandit. Dimitri took one, two, three slow steps back, still staring at the corpse. His hands shook violently, his stomach churned and twisted. He tried so hard to remind himself to keep breathing, but the breaths were coming in short gasps.

"_But there are these rare moments where he just stares, Father. He just stands there, staring at corpses. And the look on his face in those moments…it's not the face of someone who's disgusted."_

Ah…_Ah_…This was what Byleth was talking about…This was what he already knew…

Was he truly so far gone?

Foolish boy that he was, so focused on his damnable mind, he didn't hear the bandit coming up behind him until it was too late.

Dimitri could only let out a gasp, all the breath he had in him leaving him, as he felt a pressure flow from his back straight through to his chest. He shook as he slowly looked down, seeing a jagged sword sticking out of his chest. Gritting his teeth as a dull throbbing began to spread over him, he forced himself to look over his shoulder at his attacker.

"Wandered too far away from your little school, huh, kid?" the bandit chuckled right in his ear, wearing a grin that was too wide.

The bandit yanked the sword out of him, shoving Dimitri forward. Dimitri stumbled before falling to his hands and knees, coughing violently. Blood was filling his mouth, spilling to the ground with each wheeze and cough he took. He heard the bandit snigger, heavy footsteps slowly approaching him.

Fight…Fight…_FIGHT_!

With a growl, he clawed at the ground and pushed himself to his feet, running towards the corpse that had his lance. He grabbed the lance and pulled it out of the body, spinning and pointing it at the bandit who was coming at him.

With a roar, more to focus himself than to intimidate anyone else, Dimitri charged at the bandit. He swung his lance, clipping the bandit's wrist, sending his sword clattering to the ground. Not giving the man any time to recover, Dimitri readjusted his grip on the lance and drove it into the man's chest. The force of the blow sent the man stumbling and falling onto his back, hitting the ground with a thud.

It wasn't enough.

Dimitri pulled the lance out of the bandit's chest, only to drive back in again. And again. And again. _And again_.

Serves him right. Serves him right. Serves. Him. _Right_.

The bandit had stopped moving a while ago, body riddled with holes. Dimitri pulled his lance out one last time, only for his shaking fingers to drop the weapon. He took a few steps, trying to remember which way the meeting hall was.

He didn't get more than a couple feet away before his legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground. He wheezed and wheezed, each breath more painful than the last. His back, his chest, it was as if he was on fire.

It was so quiet…

"S-someone," he said, his voice barely rising above a whisper, "Please…_Help me_…"

He didn't want to be alone…

As he grew more tired, his limbs heavier, he heard footsteps quickly approaching him. More bandits? What a pathetic end for the Blaiddyd royal line…

Dimitri gasped as the figure stumbled over him.

"Damn it, how many corpses am I gonna run over?"

…Dimitri nearly sobbed with relief upon hearing that oh so familiar grumpy voice…only for a twinge of fear to shoot through him when he heard the footsteps leaving.

"Wait," he tried so hard to shout, but his words only came in gasps, "Please…wait…"

He took a deep breath, ignoring the searing pain in his chest.

"_Felix_!"

The footsteps stopped, Dimitri coughing from the strain of such a small shout. He clawed at the ground to keep himself conscious as Felix's figure slowly came into view.

Felix's bun had come undone, his hair framing his face and falling over his shoulders in loose strands. He had a black eye, several other purple bruises covering his face and chest, the slightest bit of blood trickling from his nose. Felix stared, mouth agape, at Dimitri, seemingly frozen in place. Dimitri wasn't sure who was shaking more, himself or his old friend…

"Felix…" Dimitri whispered once more, trying to reach a hand in Felix's direction.

The sound of his name seemed to shake Felix from whatever trance he was in. His eyebrows knitted together as he cupped a hand around his mouth, apparently unable to lift his other arm.

"SYLVAIN!" Felix shouted into the fog before he rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside Dimitri, "You…_You_…What the hell did you do, you dumb boar?"

"S-stabbed," was all Dimitri would reply with, trying not to slur his words as his eyelids grew heavy.

"I can see you were stabbed, moron!" Felix shook Dimitri's shoulders, eyes so wide, "Why are you-?"

"Felix?"

Dimitri couldn't find the strength to turn his head in the direction of Sylvain's voice, instead listening to his slow footsteps. It sounded like he may be limping.

"Hey, you know I hurt my leg and here you are, running off like-_Dimitri_!"

Dimitri did his best to make his vision focus as Sylvain's panicked expression came into view. His face was so pale, a nasty gash across one cheek.

"What happened?" Sylvain asked frantically, "Wait, weren't you with Ashe? Where is he?"

"Meeting…hall…" Dimitri said, closing his eyes only to snap them open when Felix slapped his face.

"You came out here _alone_?" Sylvain asked, frustration lacing his voice, "How could you do this? You stupid-"

"We can yell at this dumbass later," Felix interrupted, getting to his feet and moving to Dimitri's legs, "My other arm's useless so I got his legs, you grab the rest of him. The meeting hall must be that giant building the others are in."

The…others…?

"Safe…?" Dimitri asked, his vision flickering again, "Others…"

"C'mon, buddy, just concentrate on staying awake for now," Sylvain told him gently as he grabbed him under the armpits.

Felix and Sylvain carried him back to the meeting hall, progress made slower by Sylvain's injured leg. Dimitri blacked out part way through the trip, waking up again just as they were passing through the door to the meeting hall. He noticed a couple of villagers quickly lock the door and move some chairs and a table in front of it…Good, they remembered to block it this time…

"_Your Highness_!"

Dimitri turned his head towards the scream, watching as Mercedes rushed over. She guided Felix and Sylvain to lay him down near the center of the room, her eyes quickly searching over his body, taking note of all his wounds. The bags under her eyes had become more noticeable, her eyes so much redder, since Dimitri had last seen her.

The conversation Felix, Sylvain, and Mercedes were having faded out as Dimitri slowly turned his head this way and that, trying to search for everyone else. There was Ashe leaning against the wall, his shirt having been removed, revealing his bandaged torso and several dark bruises. Ashe was staring at him with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing, yet he remained in place. Leaning against Ashe, practically nodding off on his shoulder, was Annette, one of her hair loops undone, several cuts littering her face, one of her feet wrapped in a makeshift splint. When her eyes met his, she sat up straighter, wincing and clutching at her stomach, as tears fell down her cheeks.

"Prince Dimitri!" she sobbed, "I'm so sorry! Dedue, he…He tried to protect me!"

His heart skipped a beat at her words, eyes frantically looking around. Laying close by Annette was Dedue, looking as if he was asleep. His arms and chest were covered in a mix of bandages and what looked like torn pieces of clothing. The bandages were soaked in blood…So much blood…

"Dedue," he choked out.

"One of those bandits had an anti-armor weapon," Annette cried as Dimitri's eyes looked back at her. Ashe clutched one of her hands, his thumb gently rubbing the back of it, "He took such a bad hit! I tried to help, but I got distracted and he shielded me from someone with an axe."

"Annie, please," Mercedes called out to her gently before addressing Dimitri, "What she failed to mention was that when Dedue fell, she fiercely guarded him with her magic. And once she had cleared the area, despite her own heavy injuries, she called up enough magic to help carry him here. Right, Annie?"

"If I was a better mage, he wouldn't have been hurt so badly in the first place, Mercie! Your Highness, I'm sorry! I'm so, _so_ sorry!"

Before Dimitri could respond to that, a strangled cry filled the air. He turned in the direction of that cry he never wanted to hear again, locking eyes with Ingrid, who was trying to struggle to her feet.

"Ingrid, dear, you mustn't!" Mercedes quickly went to her and gently pushed her back onto the blanket, "You're still too weak, your legs need more time to heal."

When she refused to calm down, Mercedes and Felix helped to move her beside Dimitri. Ingrid reached out and grasped Dimitri's hand, squeezing it tightly. Dimitri did his best to focus on the warmth of her hand, to stay conscious a little longer.

"Mercedes," Felix called out as he stood near Dimitri, "Did you mean it? You really don't have _any_ supplies left?"

"I used most of my supplies after our battle with the rebels," Mercedes explained, her hands digging into her hair, "Everything else I've already used to take care of the injured villagers and all of you!"

"But what about Dimitri?" Sylvain asked, still kneeling beside the prince, "He's still bleeding out here!"

"…We must make do with what we got. First, we must put pressure on his wound."

As Mercedes and Sylvain got to work quickly removing Dimitri's top, Felix grabbed the sleeve covering his injured arm. He pulled _hard_ and the sound of ripping fabric filled the air. He quickly bunched the fabric together before placing it against the bleeding wound on Dimitri's chest. At Mercedes' nod, Felix pressed down against the wound.

Dimitri let out a yell at the pressure, at the wave of pain that coursed through him.

"Focus on me, Dimitri," Ingrid said. If she felt any pain from the way he was crushing her hand, she didn't show it, "It will be okay, we're all here for you!"

"He was stabbed clean through, wasn't he?" Felix said as he continued to apply pressure, the fabric in his hand quickly staining red.

Mercedes and Sylvain slowly helped Dimitri into a sitting position, Ingrid still gripping his hand while Felix kept applying pressure to his chest. Dimitri gasped for air as he leaned back against Sylvain.

"Don't worry, Dimitri, I've got you," Sylvain told him soothingly as Mercedes tore part of her shawl, handing half the fabric to Sylvain and the other half to Felix.

"Remember, press _hard_," Mercedes told Sylvain as Felix replaced the bloodied fabric from his sleeve with the part of the shawl Mercedes had given him.

Dimitri felt the fabric brush against the wound on his back before he hissed as Sylvain applied pressure to it. As Felix and Sylvain did their best to keep Dimitri from bleeding out, Ingrid spoke to him and kept squeezing his hand to keep his focus away from the pain.

As Mercedes looked over Dimitri's body, expression far more serious than Dimitri could ever remember, a pounding came from the door to the meeting hall. The villagers whimpered in fear as the pounding kept going and going, the door and furniture blocking it shaking.

"Now what?" Felix muttered, making a move to rise until Mercedes stopped him with a hand at his shoulder.

"Concentrate on the prince," Mercedes said firmly.

Mercedes went over to where Ashe sat, gently pressing him back down when he tried to stand. She grabbed Ashe's bow and the two arrows he had left before moving back to the center of the room, standing in front of everyone. She readied an arrow, pointing it at the door with steady hands.

"Mercedes…" Sylvain began nervously.

"I'm in the best condition of all of us…I'll do everything I can."

Dimitri tried to get up, only to be held back by Felix pushing him back against Sylvain, Ingrid using both of her hands to hold Dimitri's arm.

They shouldn't hold him back. This wasn't right! How could he leave Mercedes to guard everyone all by herself? With only two arrows?

The door flew open with a bang, the furniture crashing away. The second a bandit came into the doorway, Mercedes let her arrow fly. It hit the unsuspecting bandit in his uncovered chest, right over his heart. The bandit let out a short yell before falling flat on his face. Another large bandit stepped forward as Mercedes readied her final arrow, letting it loose as the man stepped over the other bandit's body.

The man quickly smacked the arrow away with a swing of his axe. His eyes gleamed as he looked over everyone in the hall. Mercedes dropped the bow and spread out her arms.

"Well, well, well," the man laughed mockingly, "A bunch of useless villagers and a few bleeding kids? That's all?"

Dimitri saw a spark of light in the corner of his eye. He looked to see Ashe had managed to get to his feet, although he looked like he'd collapse any second. Ashe glared at the bandit, his hands balled into fists so tight that his veins were popping out. Annette was still seated, a hand still clutching at her stomach, but there was a faint glow flickering around her other hand. But she didn't look well enough to make the magical glow stronger. It seemed that Dedue had been woken by the bandit's entrance. His teeth were clenched as he shakily tried to sit up, wheezing in pain as he reached out for his axe.

"I _won't_ let you hurt them," Mercedes practically snarled at the bandit.

"Nice spirit you have there, girlie! Let's see how long that lasts."

Mercedes didn't flinch as the man readied his axe and advanced. As some of the villagers cried and screamed, Sylvain reached one arm out over Dimitri's shoulder and grabbed Felix, pulling him and Dimitri close to him, Sylvain holding his other arm out in front of Ingrid to shield her.

As the bandit got closer, as Dimitri cursed his utter uselessness when it truly mattered, a strange yet familiar sound filled the air.

It sounded…like a whip?

"GAH!"

Dimitri tried to focus through the pain, through his flickering vision. The bandit had come to a halt, his axe clattering to the floor. When his eyes finally focused on the scene in front of him, Dimitri saw the tip of a sword sticking out from the bandit's neck…A sword made of…bone.

"Professor…" Dimitri gasped as Byleth walked up behind the bandit, the segments of his sword clicking back together as he got closer to the man.

Byleth's clothes were torn, blood covering half of his face. He pulled the sword out of the bandit's neck, a sickening _squelch_ filling the air. As the bandit shook, gurgling as he tried to speak, Byleth grabbed him by the hair.

"_Stay away from my students_," the mercenary commanded coldly before shoving the man to the ground, where he trembled for a moment before going still.

Byleth spared the bandit a passing glance before looking over the crowd, his expression darkening as he saw how battered each of the Blue Lions were. The second he locked eyes with Dimitri, what could be nothing other than pure shock crossed Byleth's face.

As Dimitri finally blacked out, he couldn't help but think about how that was yet another new expression from Professor Byleth.

* * *

When Dimitri finally came to, slowly opening his eyes, he noted how quiet everything was. And it seemed so much brighter in the meeting hall.

"Well, look who came back to the world of the living."

Dimitri turned his head and saw Felix sitting beside him, one arm bandaged and in a sling, staring down at him with a bored expression. Shock coursed through him at the sight. Of all people, he would have never expected Felix, at least the Felix he'd been dealing with recently, to keep watch over him.

"You passed out yesterday and stayed unconscious for sixteen hours," Felix explained as he got to his feet, "Well, the professor told me to get him when you woke up, so I'm off."

"Felix," Dimitri called out as he slowly sat up. He briefly noticed that his chest was wrapped in actual bandages, the blinding pain from yesterday now a dull ache, "…What happened after I passed out?"

"Professor Byleth will tell you," Felix answered.

"…Are you okay?"

"I'll live."

Dimitri's heart dropped at how quick the response was, how easily Felix turned and walked away. So, nothing had changed after all. He had hoped…after seeing how Felix had reacted to his injuries yesterday…

…But wasn't how he reacted yesterday a sign of change in and of itself? Or rather, a sign that perhaps things weren't as different between them as Dimitri had feared?

As Dimitri waited for Byleth to arrive, he looked around the meeting hall. He was the only one there. The only signs of yesterday's battle were the blankets scattered across the floor, the overturned chairs and tables…The bloody stains here and there…

When Dimitri heard footsteps approaching, he turned and expected to see Byleth. Instead, there was Dedue, a tray in hand as he slowly made his way to the prince, each step looking like it caused him pain.

"Dedue!" Dimitri cried, trying and failing to get to his feet, "Why are you up? You were severely injured yesterday!"

"So were _you_, my prince," Dedue replied, slowly kneeling to the floor and placing the tray of food by Dimitri. The look on Dedue's face was so gentle, it nearly made Dimitri tear up, "You can't begin to imagine how happy I am to see you awake."

"Th-thank you…But I've told you over and over, this isn't your job!"

"No, it isn't."

Dimitri is briefly taken aback by the response before noticing the frustration on Dedue's face.

"My job is to protect you…But you nearly died while I was none the wiser. I'm a failure of a soldier, Your Highness."

"Dedue…" Dimitri sighed as he placed a hand gently on his retainer's shoulder, "You weren't assigned to me. And my injuries were my own fault. Besides, I heard you saved Annette."

"It's more like little Annette saved _me_," Dedue chuckled, "…I will work harder, Your Highness. So that this won't happen again."

"Dedue, you can't be everywhere, can't do everything. You're not a god."

"…Neither are you, my prince."

With that parting statement ringing in his ears, Dimitri stared at the tray of food as Dedue left.

"Good morning."

Almost immediately after Dedue's departure, the professor arrived, a bandage wrapped around his head, still wearing his torn clothes. Dimitri found it hard to maintain eye contact with Byleth as he walked to where the prince sat, taking a seat on the ground beside him. He felt a mixture of shame and dread coursing through him.

"Are you feeling alright?" Byleth asked.

"Yes, I'm doing much better. I thought Mercedes said she ran out of medical supplies?"

"Reinforcements showed up around an hour after you passed out. They brought enough medical supplies for three cities. Well, you may be better, but you're going to be bedridden for several weeks. Those wounds were…awful…"

Dimitri nodded at that. If he listened carefully, he could hear the sounds of conversations drifting in from the open door and windows.

"What happened after I passed out, Professor?" Dimitri finally asked.

Byleth slowly and methodically went through the events, confirming that all thirty bandits had been killed. Dimitri closed his eyes when Byleth noted that thirty-four of the seventy villagers were also killed during the raid, most of them having died before the Blue Lions had arrived.

"It really would have been a complete massacre if we hadn't arrived," Byleth noted, "Your decision to come here saved many people."

"…I did nothing," Dimitri replied softly.

"The surviving villagers would tell you otherwise. But really, all of you did well with such terrible conditions. Heavily wounded and exhausted from another battle, a dense fog, even more severe injuries…You exceeded my expectations."

The warmth in Byleth's voice made Dimitri flush. But…he couldn't find it within himself to feel worthy of the praise…

"How…How are the others doing? Where are they?"

"I just saw Dedue walking about, even though he had been strictly warned to stay in bed if he wanted to return to battle by the end of the month," Byleth said, a trace of annoyance lacing his voice, "Mercedes is tired but otherwise fine. If it wasn't for her, there would have been many more victims. Felix, Sylvain, Ingrid, Annette, and Ashe are doing well too. Their injuries weren't are bad, at least compared to you and Dedue. Anyone who wasn't ordered to stay in bed is helping around the village."

"…I suppose none of us will be doing any field assignments anytime soon."

"No, the eight of you can enjoy books and written assignments for the rest of the month," Byleth answered in a voice that dared Dimitri to argue, even though he had no will to.

With the report of what happened while Dimitri was unconscious out of the way, Byleth leaned forward, his expression far more stern than usual. Dimitri gulped, his heart pounding and palms sweating.

"Ashe told me you ran off to the battlefield alone," Byleth said in an even tone, "He thought he didn't try hard enough to stop you. That if he hadn't been injured then you would've taken him along."

"It's not his fault!" Dimitri insisted, "He shouldn't blame himself, I was the one who ran off. It was my own fault."

"I agree."

The instant answer stung but Dimitri knew he deserved it. Byleth sighed as he pressed a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes tightly, as if he had a headache. After a moment, he opened his eyes once more and stared at Dimitri, looking so _exhausted_.

"Didn't you remember what I told you once, in the library?" Byleth asked, "About how you're neglecting yourself with how much you focus on other people?"

"I remember," Dimitri whispered. His hands shook as he clasped them together in his lap, "…It wasn't that I didn't trust them, I swear. They were all hurt and tired and I-"

"I know you have good intentions, Dimitri," Byleth cut him off, "But do you realize how badly you've hurt the others because of what you did?"

"I already saw their injuries firsthand-"

"Not physically," Byleth shook his head, "Did you know a few of the knights and I had to practically drag Dedue away from you so that his own injuries could be treated? Did you know how upset Ashe and Annette were, how much they cried? Did you know Mercedes wouldn't stop apologizing for running out of medical supplies?"

Byleth crossed his arms in front of him, his mouth in a thin line.

"Did you know I couldn't get Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid to leave your side until a couple hours ago? They wouldn't budge no matter what I said, staying with you from the time you passed out until this morning. It wasn't until I told them that the healers said you'd wake up soon that they finally left. Although I had Felix stay so you wouldn't be alone when you woke up."

…He didn't know…He didn't know any of that…

"…I'm sorry."

Dimitri flinched at the sudden apology, staring at Byleth in shock. In that moment, Byleth didn't look like a fearsome mercenary or a stern professor. He looked so…_young_.

"Wh-what are _you_ apologizing for?" Dimitri asked in bewilderment.

"I'm your teacher," Byleth said in a low voice, "All of you are my responsibility. I'm supposed to guide you and help you. But…I don't know what I'm doing. And yesterday, I left you all alone…If I hadn't arrived in the meeting hall when I did…"

Byleth gripped at his hair with one hand, teeth gritted.

"…You're already doing better than me, Professor."

Dimitri smiled bitterly at the confused expression on Byleth's face.

"The fact that you told me that is proof that you're better," Dimitri said as he looked down at his hands, "You can admit your weaknesses to others…But I…"

Even now, despite his injuries, despite the suffering he'd inflicted on his house members, he couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, to be vulnerable. He couldn't talk about the nightmares that plagued him for years. About his true feelings towards death and killing, contradictory and complex as they were. About the fears that caged his heart and mind. About how he'd lived his life following his father's words of what a true ruler should be like, yet not knowing if, at some point, he had begun twisting the words, had forgotten his father's true intentions.

Even now his soul was at war with itself. The majority of who he was screamed at him to not be weak, to never falter or break, to be the ideal prince. But there was a small part, so small, that was begging him to stop…Begging him to realize how _tired_ he was, of _everything_.

His mind went blank at the feeling of a familiar weight on his head. His smile was so small, so barely there, when he looked up as Byleth ruffled his hair.

"I'll keep working with you until you're ready to talk," Byleth told him, removing his hand and getting to his feet. He gestured to the tray of food, "Eat up. We'll be leaving soon."

Dimitri nodded and watched Byleth leave. He grabbed a bread roll off the tray and took slow bites, staring at nothing while he sat alone in the too big, too quiet meeting hall.

Rulers don't have the luxury of showing weakness. They needed to remain as pillars of strength, unwavering, unfaltering. Even if the body breaks, the mind shatters, the soul corrupts. Don't let the people lose faith. Protect them. Protect those who can't defend themselves.

Protect. Protect. _Protect_.

…Dimitri didn't know what to do. He didn't know where to go from here. He didn't even know if he would change at all. Those words from long ago were etched into his mind, into his very being. Those nightmares too were engraved into him. All of it molding and changing him with each passing day, week, month, year…Who was he? Who would he become? He didn't know…

But with the friendship of his fellow Blue Lions and the guidance of Professor Byleth, maybe one day he'd figure it out.

…Maybe…

* * *

This fic was a few thousand words away from being as long as, if not longer than, "Since Sticks Were Swords". But this fic would've never been released before Three Houses came out if I tried that...

I've realized that I can categorize my depictions of the Blue Lions childhood friends quartet into two categories. Dimitri and Sylvain are on Team "Hide Your Weaknesses, We Can't Let People Know We Have Anxiety And Depression" while Felix and Ingrid are on Team "Sometimes We're Chill But Many Other Times We're Stubborn Idiots". That being said, I've looked over my fics and have been comparing things with new info we get from canon and I have to say I actually have been oddly accurate on little details. I was on the mark about Dedue having been with Dimitri for four years (I had them meet when Dimitri was 14 in "Since Sticks Were Swords" and I said at the end that at the time my headcanon was that the lords were 18 at the start of the game). I was kinda accurate on Sylvain having cultured interests (canon Sylvain liking theatre and fine arts while my Sylvain loves music and reading). I kinda sorta guessed that Dimitri and Felix had a falling out, although mine took place when they were kids, but I made sure to include the canon one too. And the more we learn about Dimitri in canon, the more I realize I was pretty accurate with my depiction of him. Yay, I know my son so well! And I think there are other things too but we'll see.

My original version of this had Edelgard and Claude actually appearing, not just Dimitri's nightmares of them. But like I said before my original version of this fic wasn't going well so I started over. Also, hope you guys liked my depiction of Byleth! I chose male Byleth cause I think he needs more love. And I loved writing his interactions with Jeralt. Dad! Plus, it was fun trying to write him in stoic scenarios but also when he lets his emotions free, particularly with Jeralt and the Blue Lions.

By the way, Dimitri is refusing to come home to me in Heroes. I spent 140 orbs. You know who broke my pity rate? Quan. I already had one of him too! Damn it, he wasn't the lance cavalier voiced by Chris Hackney that I wanted! Please, my dear son, come home!

But yeah, that's it for me! I won't be making any more fics until after I've had a good amount of time to play the game myself and get some more info on stuff. By the way, everyone please be careful of all the leaks and spoilers going around! I think there's even some stuff on YouTube now! But yeah, writing these fics has been a ton of fun and added so much to my own hype for the game. I hoped I helped some of you guys get hyped for the game as well. And maybe even converted some of you over to the Blue Lions? But yup, that's all for now! Hope you enjoyed this fic and see you all again for my next one! Please read and review!


End file.
